


Kitten Thinks Of Nothing But Murder All Day

by ADyingFlower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Coming of Age, Crack Treated Seriously, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Family Feels, Fluff and Crack, Gen, I’m open to prompts!, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith eventually gets there too don’t worry, Keith is a cat, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance is me as a cat owner, Slice of Life, This starts pretty angsty but don’t be fooled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: “Geez, give a guy some warning!” The boy whined, yanking his hand back as Keith tore into the meats. Yikes, he wasstarving. “Can’t say I blame you, but still not cool! When was the last time you ate?”“Something like a week.” Keith told him in between bites, which came out sounding like weak meows instead.The boy melted. “I’ve known you for all of five minutes, and I already adore you.”Well. Frankly, that’s a little weird to hear when you’re actually a human, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.Keith is a human who accidentally shifted into a cat after being recently orphaned, before promptly getting adopted by this affectionate Spanish-speaking boy and his family. Lance owns a cat who he adores, even if the cat tries to kill him in his sleep by napping on his face or sits on his hand while he’s trying to do homework that’s due intwo hours Ginger!





	1. Rain-Drenched Cat Announces Its Ready To Stay Inside and Be Part Of The Family

**Author's Note:**

> I’m posting this before season seven drops and destroys all my headcannons and extremely detailed McClain family tree. This started as a dream but now I’m Invested™️. Someone pls save me

 They were in a motel in Florida when the people chasing them finally caught up.

Keith stared emptily at the far wall of the van, barely even noticing as they took a turn too fast and his head thumped hollowly against the plastic bottom.

His dad, he remembered vacantly, yelling at him to run before the man in white sent a knife clean through his neck. The sound of footsteps behind him as he sprinted through the parking lot, the raw spike of terror as he was lifted clear off his feet with a hand over his mouth to prevent the screams from ripping straight out of him.

Now these men had him tied up and stuffed in an oversized dog cage. Even for being a short seven year old, there was no way he could comfortably fit. His left leg, pinned uncomfortably by his right knee, had already long gone numb, and the restraints were tied so tightly he could barely move his fingers.

His dad’s warm voice trailed in memory, the soft touch of his hands as he mumbled to him in korean, and something like tears slipped down his cheeks.

Keith used to call his _appa_ crazy, for teaching him so many strange things, during those days where their lives were dictated by check out times and bus schedules. But maybe, his dad knew what he was talking about.

Rope, he recalled distantly, loosened by stretching it. Anything from zip ties to police issued handcuffs, his dad taught him how to get out of, early mornings spent waiting for the sun to rise as his father tied his wrists in front of him, behind his back, his ankles, his wrist to his ankles -

They underestimated him, he realized as he focused on stretching the rope. Tying his hands with old fashioned ropes of all things, never mind in front of him with no blindfold or anything. The cage would be a little harder to get out of, especially during a moving car with two people in the front, and another car tailing right after them.

The van they stuffed him in look like a converted animal control vehicle, with the faded sticker at the edge of the cage begging him to ‘Donate today!’ with it’s bright letters only serving to enforce that idea.

Keith liked animals. They were soft, and loyal, and they never made funny faces at his accent, or laugh when he just couldn’t get jokes, or push him off the swings because he’s _weird_.

He’s _not._

“ - We’ll be rolling in the dough for this sell for ages, those scientists have deep pockets, I’m telling you.”

“What a pain though, tracking them all over the damn country, gotta give that texan credit though, he had us chasing for almost half a year.”

A deep laugh. “Not good enough, though!”

Chuckles made their way through the front seat, and Keith had to swallow back the nausea curdling in his stomach. They _killed_ -

Glancing down, he nearly let out a shriek as he saw the telltale purple spots blooming up his bare arms like macabre bruises. No no no - this wasn’t supposed to happen, this was why his dad always made him wear sweaters and jackets even in the desert summer, hacking the ends of them with choppy scissors so they were short around his sides to stop him from absolutely dying from the heat.

He needed to calm down, but the deep resolve he normally held felt empty. Why? His dad’s dead, and even as he could feel the ropes loosening around his wrists, there was a padlock on the cage door.

There was nowhere for him to run to.

But yet -

“Dad,” He whispered, drowned out by the raucous laughter in front.

His dad would be so disappointed if he quit now. There was no way out, but his dad always told him to think outside the box.

Keith could imagine his voice, the heavy weight of his palm on the nape of his neck, steady and comforting. The gentle cant of his voice as he guided him into controlling the purple, into hiding it.

He had never tried the opposite, but, well, first time for everything.

_You_ _have a gift, that’s why we have to keep running. I’m sorry Keith, the men chasing us want to sell you for people who are going to crack you open so they can study you. If… if it ever comes to that, I want you to_

_f_

_i_

_g_

_h_

_t_

His father, steady hands and calm intonations. His mother, blurry memories of fur between his hands and cat like eyes.

…Cat like?

Something like fire licking through his veins _purrs_ , and then _pain._   

It feels like his muscles were rendering apart under the strain, tearing from bone one by one. Everything from this bones to his hair ached, the pain sharpening like the harsh grating of his dad’s whet stone over his mother’s knife left behind at the motel.

He blinked his eyes open in what felt like a millennium later. The men are still laughing, still joking, but the view is different. Shorter.

Keith wiggled his arms through the suddenly loose ropes, having to shove a pile of fabric off his hands before he glanced around just once before stopping, his eyes flicking back to hands.

\- _or_ -

What was once normal hands, if a bit pale and calloused, were no longer there. Instead, ginger paws greeted him.

Excuse his potty mouth, but what the cheese _shit_?!

“What the freaking heck is going on?” He squealed, but all that came out was a squeaky meow. Oh no. _Oh no._

Okay, okay, he can deal with this. He’s apparently a cat now. A kitten too, he figured as he stumbled to his feet - paws? You know what, he’s just going to stick to human terminology-, eyeing the bars that once held tight. Now they were almost laughingly wide.

Keith can think about all of this later. His father’s death, his subsequent kidnapping, the fact that he’s a freaking _cat,_  all of it can be pushed off later with enough determination and compartmentalization.

Now, he’s going to escape.

 

It didn’t take long. After only about an hour or so, one of the people in the front complained about needing the bathroom, and the car began to slow down.

“Probably need to give the brat water, it’s a long drive back to Arizona and I ain’t taking the chance of him dying before getting payed.” They both laughed again, and Keith braced himself near the door.

The door shuddered, and slowly, ever so slowly, the door began to open. He took the chance.

“What was that -!”

“Fuck, the brat’s gone!”

Keith didn’t look back. He just kept running.

 

So hungry. Tiredness, like a disease, pressed in on him. Blood seeped through his matted fur, crusting almost angrily from a fellow stray’s attack.

That’s all he was now. He didn’t know if he could shift back. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

He wanted his dad more than ever. For once, he even wanted his mom, even if she did leave him all alone.

A stray cat is better than an orphan who can turn purple when upset, he figured.

Keith’s somewhere down in Tampa, the city jam packed with skyscrapers and the sea breeze alike. His bones ached. The smell of blood follows him everywhere. He’s tired. So hungry.

Curling up tighter in the box of plastic wrapped cloths, Keith let his tail cover his nose and closed his eyes. The spot was warm, and most importantly, safe. He could catch some shut eye, for the first time in what felt like months but was rather more like a couple of days.

Quietly, solemely, he drifted off into sleep.

 

(He didn’t look at the sign welcoming him in when he first dashed for safety from the slobbering jaws of the dog behind him.

Maybe if he had, he would have realized he had just entered the port of Tampa.

Maybe he would have realized, before waking up to the box of plastics that smelled like coffee being lifted into the air, that a manufacturing ship had a delivery to one special place early that morning.

Varadero, Cuba, with one accidental stowaway.

It was the best mistake he ever made.)

 

“Oh hi there little kitty,” A soft voice broke through Keith’s doze, snapping him awake almost instantly, fur sticking out on its end and teeth bared.

The soft voice just giggled. It was a dark skinned boy, around his age or maybe even a little younger, with some of the bluest eyes he has ever seen. “Don’t be scared, kitty cat. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Yes, god he was so hungry. Keith would probably kill a man right now for something to eat.

“Don’t worry, I have some ham from my sandwich.” The boy told him with a small smile, his head briefly disappearing from over the top of the box to wherever his sandwich was. He strained his ears, easily picking up the sounds of the boy rummaging through what sounded like a paper bag. Distantly, he could hear the sounds of people talking outside the room, the language fluid yet extremely fast paced.

And something that smelled _really_ good.

“Heh, figured you were hungry.” The boy snickered, leaning over the top of the box once more. Keith clambered to his feet, the plastic rustling under his paws noisily. “Here, I have ham _and_ turkey, so eat up, I can practically see your ribs.”

Without another word, the boy offered the lunch meats to him.

Keith nearly took his fingers off.

“Geez, give a guy some warning!” The boy whined, yanking his hand back as Keith tore into the meats. Yikes, he was _starving._  “Can’t say I blame you, but still not cool! When was the last time you ate?”

“Something like a week.” Keith told him in between bites, which came out sounding like weak meows instead.

The boy melted. “I’ve known you for all of five minutes, and I already adore you.”

Well. Frankly, that’s a little weird to hear when you’re actually a human, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“Can I…” The boy trailed off, leaning further over the box and offering a hand out in front of him. “Can I pet you?”

Keith eyed him for a long moment, swallowing the final bite of the sweet delicious ham and turkey combo. He had no idea who this boy was, or even where he was, but -

He wanted his dad’s hugs, the ones he gave every time it felt like his world was ending over the smallest of things. But his dad wasn’t here anymore, and all Keith had was the blue eyed shape of hope.

That being said, Keith also wanted out of the box.

Good thing the boy was wearing a hoodie.

“Ow - ow! Are you seriously climbing me right now?! Ow, ow, _ow,_ your claws are like little knives - ow -“

Keith was plucked up by a soft hand when he had made it to around the elbow point among all of the boy’s frantic waving around. Pouting, he let himself flop around in the other boy’s hold until he was on his back, the boy using both of his hands to support him against his chest.

Wait a minute.

“Ha!” The boy crowed. “I’m literally cradling you like a baby right now.”

Then: “I’m totally keeping you.”

“What.” He meowed back. The boy grinned.

“It’s a deal then!” The boy bounced on the heels of his feet, swinging Keith back and forth with a playful him. “I need to name you then, and buy you a food bowl, and maybe some toys and a litter box, and, and -“

“Lance!” A voice yelled from through the swinging door he can see over the other boy’s shoulder. “Did you unpack the shipment of coffee beans yet?!”

Lance stiffened like he was shot, glancing over his shoulder nervously as if the vaguely feminine voice could see through the plastic. “Uh...maybe!”

The sigh could be heard through the door. Honestly, that was kinda impressive.

A woman who looked similar to Lance but with her hair cut short to just below her chin popped her head through the door, her mouth open in what looked an exasperated retort, and then her eyes spotted Keith.

“Lance,” She said very, very slowly. “Why are you holding a cat?”

Keith could feel Lance’s shrug through the thick material of the hoodie. “I found him in the box we got from the delivery man.”

“And you decided to pick it up why?” She eyed Keith like he was a particularly disgusting piece of garbage. He hissed at her, curling up closer in the folds of Lance’s hoodie as the other boy braced his arms protectively around him.

“First off, he’s a _him_ , not an it.” Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “And second off, he was starving, I’m not gonna let a kitty be hungry, you jerk!!” The rest of it dissolved into the rapid fire language he heard earlier, but could make no sense of. Spanish, maybe?

The lady breathed a quiet “ _Ñooo,”_ after it was done, slapping a hand against her forehead and mumbling a few more other assorted curses in the maybe Spanish before switching back to sweet understandable English. “You know, you’re sometimes an idiot.”

“Veronica!” Lance whined. “That’s not nice!”

She waved at Keith, who was still, mind you, being cradled. “The cat could have had rabies!”

Lance shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t.”

Veronica let out another exasperated sigh, before turning on her heel and just…walking right out.

Okay then.

“Well,” Lance said in the sudden silence. “That was dramatic.”

 

Later, both of them were relaxing in what he assumed was Lance’s room. Lance was playing with one of his paws, occasionally squealing to himself as he pushed his nails into the center of what he called ‘toe beans’. Keith was content to sprawl out on Lance’s chest, purring quietly and drifting in and out of sleep.

Something about Lance just made him feel _safe_. Safe enough to relax his guard for just a moment, for the wave of sleep to pull him back down before a slight sound in the distance woke him up again.

Lance mumbled something else to himself in the maybe Spanish, scratching softly behind Keith’s ears. Keith purred louder, tilting his head towards what felt just like when his dad would scratch his nails through his hair whenever he was stressed.

It wasn’t quite the same, but it was enough.

The room was bright, painted in shades of light blues. It was a little bigger than Keith’s room back in Arizona, before his dad took him to a hospital for a high fever, only for them not to let him go. His dad had to actually knock two security guards unconscious and pull the fire alarm to get him out of there, and they’d been running ever since.

His heart panged. Thoughts to think about later, when he wasn’t wrapped in warmth and the soft chatter of the people in the streets outside.

Lance was curled up on the bottom bunk of the bunk beds, photographs taped on the wall next to him of his family and even a poster of some animated movie pasted to the bottom of the mattress above them. Another single bed was tucked into the corner of the room, making it...three kids in this room? And he thought his room was small with just him alone.

There was a rap on the door, and both Keith and Lance perked up towards it. A woman who looked almost exactly like Veronica from before, if plus twenty or so years, smiled softly at the both of them (or maybe probably just Lance), quietly stepped into the room, barely even paying heed to how Lance scrambled to a sitting position at her entrance.

“ _Mami!”_ Lance shouted, grinning widely at his mother, Keith’s guessed? Wow, he really needed to learn how to speak the maybe Spanish at this rate, because he’s been here all of like two hours and he already has a headache from trying to make heads or tails of it.

She said something back to Lance, her tone soft and warm, maybe a nickname? The two of them chattered back and forth for a while, Lance at one point gesturing wildly to Keith and pointing at the large scratch on his back, though he made sure to not to touch it directly.

Eventually, she offered a hand out to him, watching with knowing eyes at his reaction. And while he was okay with Lance petting him, he wasn’t so sure with this strange lady who may or may not be Lance’s mother doing it. She had done nothing so far to earn his trust.

So he turned his head to the side, curling up into a ball once more on Lance’s lap. But to his surprise, she just barked out a startled laugh instead.

The next time she murmured something in Spanish, he thought it might be a compliment.

Lance leaped up, sending Keith flying from his lap into a pile of blankets with a startled yelp. Looping his arms around his mother’s stomach, Lance let out a happy squeal and with one last final squeeze, he jumped back onto the bed to cuddle Keith to his chest with near strangling tightness.

Was he saying…thank you? On repeat?

Oh no.

Oh wait.

SHIT -


	2. Study: 90% Of All Meowing Comes From Owners Trying to Get Cats to Meow Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will all of my chapter titles be from the onion? Yes, yes they will

“What to name you…” Lance murmured to himself, but at this point, Keith learned that Lance talked to himself a lot. About everything.

Well, can’t say it’s not handy.

The two of them were in what he supposed was the living room of the apartment. Lance had chosen to sprawl on the floor dramatically with Keith still sitting on his chest, occasionally switching between English and Spanish(?) with his little siblings maybe? Maybe??

(Someone please save him from this headache)

The three babies were crowded on the couch, while another one was kneeling next to Lance and kept trying to poke at Keith. Distantly, Keith could hear the sounds of the restaurant downstairs, as well as a clamor of voices coming from upstairs.

“How about jerk?” The oldest of the kids offered, who also was the one who kept poking at him, and ‘coincidentally’, getting snapped at.

“ _No_!” Lance laughed despite it, scooting a little bit away from the oldest boy. “Don’t be mean, or I’ll call _tía_ Sylvia.”

One of the little boys on the couch gasped dramatically, shaking the girl next to him. The girl looked like she was very tempted to hit him. “Not _mami_!”

Lance crowed, finally sitting up with Keith still cradled in his arms in order to shove the older boy with his socked foot right in the knee. “Yes _mami!”_

The oldest boy shoved him right back with his own foot. “ _Lanceeee._ ”

“ _Gabriellll_.”

The intense stare off continued for a few more moments, before one of the toddlers on the couch got bored with their dramatic brother (and cousin? Maybe?) and decided to just. Scream.

What the cheese.

Neither Lance or Gabriel seemed surprised, but Lance did finally plop him on the ground gently to stand up and waddle his way over to the innocent looking toddler.

“Javier, what have we told you about screaming?” Keith thought that Javier was the youngest of the three babies, or at least the smallest. Then maybe the gasping boy from earlier was the middle child, and then the sole girl as the oldest.

Javier replied in gurgled Spanish(?) and Lance chatted back easily in the same language. Occasionally an English word popped up between them, but for the most part it was Spanish(?), so Keith quickly got bored with the entire thing and stumbled to his feet, swiftly avoiding Gabriel’s grabby hands and making his way back over to Lance.

Keith couldn’t really tell why, but all he knew was that Lance felt _safe_ , the same way his dad does - did. Like - some kind of energy telling him _It’s okay cub listen safety love protection_ , something like fire in his veins burning through him and cleansing him of all the negative thoughts in his head.

He shook his head out of all the weird thoughts by the time he was back at Lance’s feet, quickly sticking his claws into his jeans and clawing his way up. Ha, teach him for ignoring him like that.

“Ow ow ow, jeez could you stop that -!” A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the next, yanking him out to where he was around the knee and back towards Lance’s chest, where he was once again cradled.

He meowed happily, purring quietly as Lance stroked a gentle finger under his chin. “I’m sorry kitty, was I ignoring you? You’re just so needy! So! Cute!” Half of that sentence was in baby talk, but you know what, at this point he didn’t even care.

“Still unnamed kitty, meet my cousins Gabriel and Leo.” Lance pointed at both of them, Leo having been the gasping baby. “And you two too, I guess.”

“Lance!” The rest of it was Spanish(?) babble, but most of it sounded like fake aggravation from the only girl.

“ _Sí_ , _sí._ ” Okay, Dora taught him at least that much. So this _was_ Spanish? He’ll think about this later. “My adorable -“ Some more Spanish here, but if going by the little girl’s giggling it was probably some kind of compliment. “Niece and nephew, Izzy and Javier.”

So… Keith did a quick mental recount as Lance switched between Spanish and English fluently depending on who he was talking to. The cousins: Gabriel who was around Lance’s age, maybe a bit older, and Leo, who was somewhere between the other two toddlers in age. Izzy and Javier were Lance’s niece/nephew, also babies, Izzy being the older one while Javier was practically an infant it felt like.

Okay. Okay, this wasn’t too bad.

Well, he thought that until he heard a loud yell from downstairs. Lance perked up with Keith still in his arms, everyone else stumbling to their feet and running downstairs with loud yells in Spanish. Lance only waited a moment to make sure his grip on Keith was solid before he took off after them, taking the steps two at a time. There was some more shouting as the steps descended into the back room/office from earlier, but all of the kids fled out the swinging plastic door towards a large industrial sized kitchen.

There was the girl from earlier - Veronica? Yeah, Veronica. Her, along with two other males and one female carrying a baby were bustling near a table set up in the back of the kitchen, holding utensils and plates of food.

“Where’s mami?” Gabriel trotted up to Veronica, tugging on her belt. Leo was right behind him, and Veronica didn’t even blink as she squatted down to pick him up and plop him on her hip.

“ _Tía_ Sylvia has to work the double shift today, remember?” Veronica shifted Leo to make room for one of males who was carrying a plate full of rolls. Both Izzy and Javier perked up at the sight of him, rushing towards him with loud screams of “Papa!”

‘Papa’ yelled something excitable back at them in Spanish, opening his arms with a wide smile as Izzy and Javier hopped into his arms.

“Marco!” Lance laughed, jogging over to accept the side hug the male was offering him. Some more things were said in Spanish, and then Marco was looking Keith directly in the eye with a kind expression, Izzy and Javier still clinging to his shoulders.

“Here Kitty,” Marco said, his voice heavily accented. Keith was almost surprised; this guy was Lance’s brother and supposedly the dad of Javier and Izzy, yet he didn’t even look twenty.

“What.” He meowed back, and pretty much everyone in the room simultaneously awed.

“I’m surprised your mother allowed you to keep the cat.” The other girl with the baby giggled, shuffling from side to side as the baby yawned against her shoulder. She sounded almost funny, and it took him a minute to realize she had almost no disnerable accent, unlike how Lance and his family rolled their rs and lilted the end of their words.

“I’m just that awesome,” Lance raised his nose snootily, and Leo wiggled from where he was still on Veronica’s hip to squeal something in Spanish at Lance. Keith wasn’t expecting Veronica to lightly flick Leo’s forehead in response, her mouth set in a playful scowl.

“English around cousin Camilla, remember?” She scolded lightly, setting Leo down on one of the available chairs and handing him one of the juice boxes the still one unnamed male brought in with him from where they floated around each other in the kitchen.

Camilla laughed, reaching over and kissing Veronica’s cheek with a smirk. “It’s okay love, Rosetta Stone has taught me that much.”

Veronica wilted, crossing her arms and looking so much like Lance that he had to do a double take for a moment. “Yeah, but you and Olivia have only been living here for three months, and you complained earlier about having a headache from constantly translating in your head…”

For some reason, Camilla blushed brightly at this, both of them looking at opposite corners of the room with red ears. Until the still unnamed male walked past, not even looking at them as he yelled: “Get a room you two!”

“Luis!” Both of them shrieked, Veronica even hopping on one foot as if she was ready to take her shoe off and chuck it at him, something he would always do at his dad when surprise tickle attacks were launched at him.

“Every day…” Lance complained loudly, plopping down on one of the seats next to Gabriel and boosting Keith up to sit on the table. “Every day they get into this argument: Veronica and Camila continue to be sappy despite being married for like a year now, Luis tells them off for their PDA, a fight commences, and Marco continues to be my favorite sibling.”

Marco beamed from where he was setting Izzy and Javier down next to Leo. “Thank you!”

Lance just sighed. “You’re welcome.”

Camila strolled up to them, still rocking slightly with the baby in her arms. “Can you hold Olivia for me, Lance? I have to go break up the lovely fight between my beautiful wife and her emo brother.”

“I’m not emo!” Luis yelped from where he was in a headlock.

“You’re thirteen, everything you do is emo.” Veronica tightened her grip on Luis’ neck, practically almost lifting him off the ground.

“And you’re old.” Luis gasped, slapping his hand against her arm while Camila gently handed Lance the baby, who expertly cradled her in his arms faster than he could blink.

Veronica squeezed tighter with a savage grin. “I’m twenty-four you asshat!”

Marco gasped dramatically, dropping the serving utensils he was using to hand Izzy some salad. “No swearing! There are children here.”

To his surprise, that managed to break up the fight faster than Camila’s laughing attempts at pulling them apart could. Wow, guess it’s Marco who really ran the roost here, rather than Veronica, as he had originally assumed.

“It’s time for dinner anyways.” Veronica straightened her shirt faux stuffy like, daring anyone to point out that she just had her little brother in a choke hold.

Luis, on the other hand, looked like he got into a fight with a monster truck and _lost_. “Whatever. I’m taking dinner up to my room anyhow, I gotta finish my homework.”

Ah, school, something he hasn’t been to in years. His dad tried his best to school him on the road, but they only had so much money and it needed to be spent more on meals than paper and pencils.

He should probably fix that, huh.

If he could figure out how to turn back from a cat to a human being, that is. But it’s warm and he’s not hungry anymore, and it’s more than what he was before.

Keith was gently scooted off the table as the family dug into their meal, the loud sounds of utensils clinking against their plates and appreciative hum buzzing against his ears. For a lack of anything better to do, he followed after Luis’ retreating footsteps back upstairs, and then up _another_ set of stairs. Luis didn’t even seem to notice or care that he was being followed by a cat, shouldering open the door to Lance’s room from earlier when they reached the end of the short hallways. He plopped down onto the available desk, a half open backpack sprawled at the ground next to the chair.

Figuring everyone would still be busy for quite a while, Keith hopped up onto Lance’s bed from earlier, curling into a ball on his pillow with one eye kept absently on the scrawl of Luis’ pencil.

Before he knew it, sleep washed over him and tugged him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance’s family so far (I got you guys, I tried making this as unconfusing as possible, but you never know)
> 
> Lance (7)  
> Luis (13)  
> Marco (19)  
> \- > Daughter Isabella - Izzy - (4)  
> \- > Son Javier (2)  
> Veronica (24)  
> \- > Wife Camila (this show can pry these lesbian wives out of my cold dead hands) (23)  
> \- > Daughter Olivia (Seven months old)
> 
> Aunt Sylvia (mentioned, more details to come)  
> \- > Gabriel (10)  
> \- > Leo (3)
> 
> If you don’t think I have Lance’s entire family tree mapped out then you are dead wrong I just don’t want to overload you by introducing them all at once


End file.
